


Corner of the Sea or: No More Love On The Run

by guti



Series: The Continuing Adventures of Merseyside's Finest [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Burglary, Cruise Ships, M/M, Washed Up Celebrities, musical theater
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 19:09:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8221736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guti/pseuds/guti
Summary: Has-been teen idol David Villa accepts an offer to perform in a musical on a Caribbean cruise ship and a high seas romantic adventure ensues.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lunasenzanotte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunasenzanotte/gifts).



> \- title comes from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=48YcZsB3sgk) & [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VhJIDETEVIQ)  
> \- there's porn in this here fic, so be mindful of the rating!  
> \- thanks to [pimpam](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pimpam) for suggesting the name of the TV show. i wanted something along the lines of 'St. Elsewhere' and while it might be a grammatical failure, it was too cute not to use it!  
> \- i hope you enjoy this!!!  
> \- as you can see, this fic has been added to "The Continuing Adventures of Merseyside's Finest", and you may be wondering why that is... let's just say i have plans to more obviously connect the two at a point in the future, but know that the kun you encounter in this fic is the same kun who appears in later adventures (and villa and silva should both make appearances in later adventures as well.) this is set in the same alternate universe, but at present has no bearing on the other parts of this series, so feel free to read this one as a one-shot, skip past it, etc. if that makes more sense for you!

Some kids just have a flair for the dramatic. And some just happen to photograph really nicely. Some still are blessed to have both. David Villa of Tuilla was one such child. Though he showed a passion for sport as a young boy, he found his footing in his family as a source of entertainment and joy. He was, according to his mother, destined for stardom, and this declaration was made true following his discovery at the age of six by a talent scout from Gijón. David was cast in a commercial for a new shopping center, and soon after, local print and television advertising offers came streaming in on a regular basis. 

By the time he was eleven, David was a local celebrity, with ads for furniture stores, restaurants, and even for the regional tourism board. And on top of that he was acting. Like, really acting, on a stage and everything. It wasn’t anything too fancy, but with each community production his confidence grew and he garnered more notice and praise. A call came one day, from a man in Valencia, asking if he would be interested in signing with his agency. On the table was the offer of a national chewing gum ad campaign, along with the chance to appear in a major department store’s holiday catalogue.

So they took the chance, and he and his mother made the move south. And he loved every minute of it. Not that it glamorous or anything. He was a struggling and working child actor, but it was what he lived for. And he was good at it. And he was helping his family. And so, he was going to do it for as long as he could.

He’d just wrapped up a run as Jack in a local production of _Into The Woods_ in the spring of 1995, when his agent received a phone call from one of his contacts in Barcelona. There was a pilot script being passed around, a soap opera set at a boarding school, about the trials and tribulations of a group of attractive and wealthy teenagers. Someone mentioned the kid in the chewing gum commercial might be perfect for one of the roles. And so, after a series of strenuous auditions and months of uncertainty, fourteen year old David Villa was cast as the brooding and misunderstood Diego on the after school drama _“El Instituto del San Aquí No”_. 

The show was an overnight hit, with the nine teenaged stars gaining instant celebrity status and opportunities beyond their wildest dreams, so long as they did as they were told and stayed complacent to the producers. And David was, absolutely. He loved acting, loved getting to express himself through Diego’s darker story arcs, like when Diego started drinking after the death of his mentor, the school janitor Paco, or when he thought he got his on-again/off-again girlfriend Maricar pregnant but it turned out she’d been having a secret affair with the math teacher, Señor García and the baby wasn’t his, or when he began a series of illicit affairs with several of the female students resulting in a fistfight at a train station that left Pedro in a wheelchair and Jacinta with amnesia. 

And he was a good and compliant young actor. He was amiable on the set, never made demands or raised a fuss. He did his job and he did it with style, just exactly the way the producers liked it. So along with the juicier storylines, he gained hoards of devoted fans who were eager to worship and adore him. Before he knew it, he was gracing the covers of teen magazines, posing for posters, and giving interviews about inane crap like his favorite kind of candy, or what he looks for in a girl. All of it was incredibly innocent and only added to his mass appeal and _should_ (if his agent was to be trusted) ensure he’d have a dedicated and loyal fanbase to pull from once _”San Aquí No”_ came to an end. 

Which it did, in the autumn of 2003. He was twenty-two and he’d milked that role for all it was worth, even after his character graduated and it made no sense for him to be hanging around the high school. David remembered the day the producers told him. He’d never felt so rejected in his entire life.

“Don’t even worry about it, darling,” his mother said as she’d packed up her belongings from their shared apartment. With his stint on the show at an end, it would be best for her to move back to Asturias, at least until David found another steady acting gig. In the meantime, he would stay behind in Barcelona and audition for other parts, maybe do some modeling if he could manage it. It would be tough, but it was all he’d ever really known, and now that he was an adult, it just made more sense that he should be out on his own.

“You’re not disappointed?” He asked, genuinely wondering. It wasn’t as if he had an overbearing stage mother or anything, but things were a little different now that he was unemployed and on his own for the first time ever. 

“This was wonderful while it lasted, but it’s time for us all to move on. And besides, you’ll have plenty of other roles to take now that you aren’t confined by the shooting schedule of the show.” She’d patted his shoulder comfortingly and reminded him that _someone_ had to look after his father, and carried on cleaning out her closet.

David knew she meant well– hell, he was absolutely certain she was right, but that didn’t make the separation from the spotlight any easier. After all, he’d spent the best years of his life on the set of that show and in the glow of the nation. He was a bonafide teen idol. He was admired and lusted after by an entire generation of schoolgirls. And all he had to do was make the great transition from teen heartthrob to smoldering leading man. 

The problem was, no one was beating down his door wanting to hire him. There was no doubt David was talented (he had the teen choice awards to prove it) but talent only counted for so much in show business. The public, it seemed, craved new idols to worship, new celebrities to throw themselves at, and David Villa was unfortunately yesterday’s news. The girls who’d grown up with his posters on their bedroom walls were now young women, some in university, some married and starting families. They weren’t the ones lusting after former teen idols. His fan base had outgrown him, so he had to look elsewhere, and quickly, before his star went out for good.

His agent suggested he record an album, so he did. It barely scraped the Top 40 before fading into obscurity. One of the songs was a minor hit in Finland though, and he made a few appearances on Finnish TV before they grew tired of him too. He tried a second album, switching from bubblegum pop to something more mature, with a rock edge to it. The lead single ended up getting picked up for a cat food commercial in Costa Rica, but other than that, it was a total bust.

Everything came to a head the week after he turned twenty-six. He’d just arrived home to Tuilla when he got a voice message saying his record deal had been cancelled. That news came only days after his manager’d called to let him know he’d lost out on what could’ve been a major starring turn in a television reimagining of Macbeth set during the civil war.

“This is all my fault,” his father said, scuttling around the kitchen, fixing himself a drink.

“What are you talking about?” David frowned, sulking against the counter. Beside him, his mother was chopping away at some vegetables. “How is any of this your fault?”

“It’s because you’re too short,” his father sniffed, opening up the liquor bottle. “That’s why they won’t cast you anymore.”

“Oh my g--”

“If only your mother had married a taller man.”

“Oh, darling,” his mother chuckled. “Don’t be silly.”

“Aw, Dad, come on–”

“I know, son, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. You are how you are. No one can change how they were made. You’ll just have to live with it.” His father drank right from the bottle. “Or perhaps it’s time to put this all aside and do something practical. There’s no shame in a little hard work, you know. There’s nothing wrong with using your hands and your back to make a living.”

David knew that, he did, but he wasn’t ready to give up on his dream. He had more to offer, more to give to the world than six seasons on a teen soap opera and a couple of lackluster pop albums. He was an artist, dammit, and he wanted to create real art.

Except he hadn’t taken into account that he was now amongst a whole slurry of young, beautiful, talent actors all vying for the exact same parts. And _these_ young gorgeous men hadn’t already been typecast as washed up teen idols. They were fresh faced and novel and fun, and they hadn’t already worn out their welcomes or made impressions already. The public craved the new, and new David Villa was not.

He’d been out of work for six months and was days away from taking a job as a waiter when he received an offer he could not refuse. The Majestical Grand Cruise Line were planning a new production of _Pippin_ for their ten-day, eleven-night Caribbean Adventure cruises, and the director was fond of both _San Aquí No_ and David’s pop album. The part of Leading Player was all his, if he was willing to take it. It would be a six month commitment, it would mean leaving Spain and living on a cruise ship for the next half a year. No more struggling to get cast in productions that maybe couldn’t pay him, no more making random appearances at soap opera conventions and hoping he made enough money to feel like he wasn’t a total bum. He’d be working and living the dream: six months, back and forth between Miami, Nassau, and Cozumel, through the crystalline waters of the Caribbean, performing for a captive audience every night of the cruise. It might not be Broadway or West End quality, but he could certainly think of _worse_ ways to earn a paycheck.

So he said yes. And soon, David Villa’s life began to take a different course.

Those first days of rehearsal were a breeze for him, and he found himself fully immersed in the process of finding his character and feeling comfortable with the material and his cast mates. He struck up a friendship with the young man cast in the title part— Sergio Agüero. Kun was his stage name, and he was brighter and more cheerful than anyone David had met in a very long time. His exuberance was hard to resist, and while their relationship remained strictly platonic, he found himself drawn into Kun’s sphere. David might’ve been the former TV star, but it was Kun who had the star qualities now, and it was easy to fall completely under his spell. Kun was enchanting, playful, and just plain fun to be around, never letting David forget his place as a washed up child-star, but doing so in the most loving of ways. He quickly cemented himself as an actual friend, which was something David hadn’t had in a very long time.

In the days before they boarded the ship, David and Kun and their fellow performers spent their free evenings out and about in Miami, developing a necessary camaraderie and forming a sort of pseudo-family dynamic. It was the sort of loving environment David thrived in, an atmosphere where he could truly be himself and not be judged as too standoffish or prickly, or be regarded as a snob for his past escapades in the spotlight.

“We’re going to have so much fun at sea,” Kun said to him one night after rehearsals. The neon lights of the nightclub danced and flickered across his bronzed skin, making him look silly and cartoonish.

David could only laugh. “Let’s be real, you’re just excited to pick up the lonely passengers and be done with them in a week and never see them again.”

“So are you, _señor teen idol_.”

David almost choked on his drink. 

Kun’s laugh illuminated their table further and he only gave a wink as a reply. But David knew. He got it. The lure of a regular gig was fantastic as it was, but the promise of romance and intrigue on the high seas? Well, that was an even better draw to be sure. Their nights would be spent in a high budget production, and their days would be spent sunning themselves on deck chairs, surrounded by beautiful people and the tantalizing Caribbean Sea. Who could ask for anything more?

The first several months at sea aboard the _Caribbean Queen_ breathed a new life into his soul. Not only did he find his love of acting fully renewed, but he found the sunshine and ocean air to be just what he needed to bring him back from the brink of personal and professional despair. He was doing exactly what he loved and he was thriving at it. He was seeing the world, traveling in luxury, and having the time of his life. There were lovers to take, when he wanted them; there were friendships to make. He had found a level of fulfillment he’d never imagined he could and he never wanted it to end. David figured that, if he could manage it, he’d like to stay in that gig forever. 

But the best laid of plans always seem to hit a snag at some point or other. Three months in and the cast of _Pippin_ were called in early for a meeting. There were some shake-ups happening amongst the ship’s employees. The order had come in that the crew from the Mediterranean Adventure line and the crew from the Caribbean Adventure would be switching assignments, effective as soon as _Caribbean Queen_ docked in Miami.

It wasn’t a big deal, in David’s eyes, but it was enough of a hassle that it might cause some headaches for the entertainers on board.

“Brace yourself for some unhappy patrons,” their director warned. “This new crew may or may not be as familiar with the ship or ports of call, and their incompetence may be reflected in online reviews. Just remember, it’s not your fault things are crazy around here. I’m still expecting consistent performances from all of you.”

David didn’t understand how any of this was really a problem, least of all _his_ problem. He’d still be on stage before the packed crowds every night, so what did it really matter if the crew were all rotated? For him, it all seemed like a big dust up over nothing, and he said as much later that afternoon while he and Kun were lounging on the deck, taking in the sun before it was time to head in and prepare for the evening’s performance.

Kun lowered his chin, looking at David over his dark sunglasses, eyebrows raised. “Oh, so you mean you _haven’t_ heard the rumors then?”

David looked back at him, incredulous. “What rumors?”

“There was a string of burglaries on the Mediterranean Adventure line.”

David’s mouth twisted into a small frown. “And they think it was one of the crew?”

“Mmhmm,” Kun nodded. “But they can’t figure out who it was. The surveillance on the _Mediterranean Princess_ is outdated compared to what we’ve got on the _Caribbean Queen_.”

“So they’re rotating the crew to see if the burglaries start up again?” David couldn't believe what he was hearing. It sounded so reckless, so irresponsible, like the cruise line were going to needlessly put people’s property on the line just to test some theory.

Kun nodded again, stretching his arms above his head. “Genius plan, isn’t it?”

David just shook his head, still in disbelief.

“Upside is, I used to work the Mediterranean circuit, a couple years back when we were doing _Cats_.” Kun wriggled back into his deck chair. “I’ve got a few friends who’ll be coming aboard. I’ll introduce you to some of the guys.”

The offered seemed benign enough, and David was happy to let it lie, but he caught the faintest smirk on Kun’s lips, and that was enough to leave him feeling as though something big was coming his way, only he didn’t know it yet.

He didn't dwell on any of it though. There was enough to keep him occupied between rehearsals and performances that he’d very nearly forgotten all about the whole crew change and the promise to meet Kun’s friends until they were preparing to depart Miami again and instead of the usual cast of characters welcoming him aboard, he was instead met by a series of unfamiliar faces. David found himself doing double takes again and again as he made his way to his cabin, every time he turned around he saw someone new in the place of the crew he’d come to know over the course of his tenure aboard the _Caribbean Queen_. It was discombobulating to say the least.

But he could take it in stride, after all, he was always an adaptable sort of person. And some of the new crew members were pretty easy on the eyes. David was comfortable enough with himself to admit these things to himself, though he tried not to openly ogle them. He had to work with them for the next few months, no sense in souring relations with the new crew on day one.

He was internally scolding himself for staring a little too long at one of the staff when the muster drill sounded, meaning it was time to gather in his assigned location and listen to the mandatory safety speech. Having heard the same briefing almost weekly for the last few months, he knew what he was getting into and so took his time to get to his station. There was no need to hurry, he’d heard it all before, he knew how to put on his life vest, he knew where the lifeboats were located, he felt entirely safe and sound about the ship. And that’s when the bottom fell out of his stomach and he saw the most beautiful man he’d ever seen in his life.

He stood before the assembled passengers with his clipboard and pencil, reading off names and checking them off, his brows knit in concentration. The expression didn't detract from the beauty of his face, angular yet angelic, with a dusting of freckles over his nose, dark bangs swept across his brow. He was short, shorter than David (which was saying something, really) and slender. His voice was soft and deliberate, but somehow he easily conducted the proceedings and held everyone’s attention as he demonstrated how to properly wear the life preservers and explained the ins and outs of emergency procedures. 

Though he knew the speech forwards and backwards, David found himself hanging on the man’s every word. And every so often, the man would look through the crowd, past all the other passengers, and their eyes would meet, and every time that happened, David felt chills go down his spine. The guy would avert his gaze a moment, then look back, pausing to lick his lips before heading into another part of the safety brief. David felt his knees going weak. He felt like, if he stared into that boy’s eyes long enough, he might come in his jeans. It was truly that intense, and David was absolutely unashamed.

He would’ve made a move too, sauntered right up to that man and asked him out, if only the drill hadn’t suddenly ended and the flow of passenger traffic heading to the pools and restaurants hadn’t so rudely separated them. By the time David looked back to where the man had been standing, he was gone, and David was all alone, left wondering if he’d ever find that beautiful boy again. 

“He’s lost to me,” he told Kun later that evening as they were applying their make-up before the show. “My dream husband, and he’s gone with the wind, lost on board this ship of thousands.”

Kun chortled, working some rouge into his cheek. “Are you listening to yourself, Villa? Your ‘dream husband’? Since when are you a romantic?”

“Since he came on board and we eye-fucked during the muster drill,” David sighed, eyes narrowing as he stared at his reflection. “Now I only have to find him again.”

“It can’t be that hard, can it? I mean, the ship’s big, but it’s not that big. How difficult could it be to find one crew member, right?”

As it turned out, it was quite difficult indeed. David spent his down time searching high and low for the mystery man, asking everyone he met, from the lifeguards to random passengers if they’d seen the beautiful man with the dark eyes and the freckles. And no one had. No one seemed to know who he was talking about. For all intents and purposes, mystery dream man was just another face in the crowd and David Villa was shit out of luck. Until a few nights later…

The performance had gone off without a hitch. It had gone better than that. David had felt a sort of confidence on stage that he hadn’t felt in a long while, a sort of ease that carried him through the night. He hit every note perfectly, his footwork had been impeccable, and at the end of the night, the audience erupted in applause that seemed louder and more enthusiastic than it usually was. So he took it as a sign, some sort of cosmic notification that things were right with the world, and despite feeling hung up over a stranger, he was were he needed to be.

And that was fine. That was just great. He wasn’t going to ask the universe for anything more so long as he had at last found his professional fulfillment and his corner of the sky. Everything was absolutely peachy. After the curtain fell, he felt like he was floating on air, washing the make-up from his face and changing quickly out of his costume, giving compliments to his cast mates like they were going out of style. Nothing could burst his bubble, nothing at all. He was on cloud nine and it not even wild horses could bring him down from the electrifying feeling.

And then of course, he saw him, in the hallway by the stage door, back pressed to the wall as he stared at the screen of his cell phone. David stopped dead in his tracks, the door slamming shut behind him after he’d burst through it, bringing the man’s attention right to him. 

Their eyes met. David’s mind went blank. He opened his mouth to speak. So did the other guy.

And then, from nowhere, the door swung open behind David and who should emerge but Kun.

“David!” The wily little Argentine laughed, his hands on his cheeks in glee. “And David!”

David turned to briefly look at Kun. He didn’t notice it, but so did the other man.

“Am I interrupting something?” Kun asked, a teasing little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he breezed past David and toward the other man’s side.

David shook his head. He felt a sort of tightness in his chest, like he was about to lose his breath or something. “No.”

“No,” the beautiful stranger repeated, averting his gaze for a moment, his cheeks flushing a little. 

Kun snickered slyly and linked arms with him, leaving David somewhat at their joint mercy. Kun’s eyes seemed to give off a mischievous twinkle, utterly wasted on the pair of them. “Well that’s a shame. Let’s fix that. David, this is David.”

Wait… Kun _knew him this whole time_? And he hadn’t said _a word_? David’s heart nearly stopped dead in his chest. Luckily he probably managed to look unscathed. More or less, anyway. 

For his part, Kun seemed to pick up on the tension, and he eased it with a gentle smile. “He’s one of my friends from the Mediterranean line. I told you I knew people, didn’t I?”

Sure, okay, that _did_ make sense. But still, David felt a little hoodwinked. Why hadn’t Kun mentioned this before? He was about to say as much when the other David met his eye again, and all at once he felt his knees weaken again. 

The two of them stood their, sizing each other up for a moment, both unsure how to react. Kun rolled his eyes at them, then nudged the shorter David in the side. “This is him. The one I was telling you about. Remember?”

They’d been talking about him? Oh fuck… that couldn’t be good…

“Yes, I figured that,” he said, cocking his head slightly, like he’d somehow figured something out. 

“And what do you do, David?” David asked, not liking that he was somehow left in the dark.

“I’m a concierge.” The other man shrugged and almost smiled. The look drove David wild and he felt a sort of desperation to figure it out. 

“He makes all the expensive arrangements for the rich people on board. Orders the special bottles of champagne that they just can’t live without, makes their reservations at the fancy golf courses when we dock, takes their phone calls, has their suits pressed, holds the combinations to the safes. You know, all that fun stuff,” Kun butted in, an eyebrow raised. 

A concierge. Ah, of course, it all made sense. David’s future husband would be at the beck and call of the most important passengers, sequestered away from the lowly deckhands. No wonder no one knew where to find him.

“That’s not all I do,” the other David said, voice soft but firm, his eyes still not wavering from David. “I do muster drills, too.”

“That must keep you busy,” David said, his cheeks heating a little.

“It keeps him very busy,” Kun interjected. “So busy he hadn’t even had a chance to see our show yet, can you believe it? But he saw us tonight, didn’t you, David? I had tickets held for him, right in the front row. Front and center, best seat in the house.”

David’s heart, which had nearly failed him moments before, began drumming rapidly in his chest, with the rhythm of a locomotive engine at full speed. “Yeah?” He tried to sound nonchalant, unmoved, unfazed by the prospect. “You were there?”

The other David cracked a smile, shy and knowing. “Sure was. Front and center.”

“What did you think?” David asked, far too quickly, but thankfully not saying what was really on his mind. _Did you see me? Did you watch me? Did you like me? Do you like me?_

The other David’s smile shifted into something warmer then, his whole expression seeming to come alive all at once as he nodded. “You were amazing.”

David’s entire body seemed to feel warm. He felt a rush of heat come over him, something he couldn’t remember happening to him before, at least not anytime in recent memory. He smiled at David, he couldn’t help it, and David smiled back at him, and it was like the ice had broken and there were no holds barred. They weren’t going at it or anything, but Kun’s presence was promptly forgotten, and for the next several hours they were joined at the hip.

They talked until four in the morning, shutting down the bar, moving on to one of the pool decks, deserted at that hour, and the conversation seemed to flow like nothing else. David _Silva_ was from the Canaries. He was younger, by a few years, but he’d been working for the cruise line since graduating from university with his degree in literature. 

“It was supposed to be a summer thing. You know, sail around for a few months before moving on to bigger and better things.” He shook his head a little, like maybe it was some topic best left for another time. David understood. Some of his dearest dreams had been dashed and forgotten. “But the job market’s tough back home. There’s just not a lot of work for someone whose academic focus was on 19th century poetry. So I ended up staying on. One summer turned into autumn, turned into winter, spring and on and on. And now here I am. This is my fifth year and third ship, and I’m not even sure I’d know what to do with myself if I left.”

David nodded, the breeze picking up off the sea, sending a shiver down his spine. He wasn’t sure it was the cold that caused it though, there was something else at play, he was sure of it. Sure, he’d had hook ups through the years, he’d dated on occasion, but when was the last time he felt any kind of connection to another human being? Or at least to a human being who wasn’t pure fiction? God, it almost felt like a dream, talking to someone who was not only attractive, but intelligent, authentic, and actually maybe sort of interested in _him_ as well.

“And what about you, David?” Silva asked him rather suddenly. David turned his eyes back to him, noting with a growing and urgent fondness the way he nibbled on his lip, like he was biting back a smile. “Did you see yourself living on a cruise liner, sailing from port to port, when you could be back in Spain, worshiped by all the screaming fangirls?”

He felt his heart seize just a little, eyes narrowing as Silva slyly smiled. He hadn’t brought up his previous life in the public’s hearts and televisions. He’d actually been half hoping Silva hadn’t recognized him from the show, but of course that was too much to ask. But he recovered his cool quite quickly, reaching up to run his fingers through his still semi-coiffed hair.

“That was a million years ago,” he said, casual as he could be, given he was trying to impress the guy. “A starring role on an afternoon soap opera hardly counts for anything these days, especially when my target audience has moved on to bigger and better celebrities.”

Silva snorted softly, catching David’s full attention. “I’m sure you still have devoted fans.”

“Oh sure,” David laughed, arms folding across his chest instinctively. “If I wanted to do the convention circuit I could probably afford half my rent. But I wanted to act, and nobody takes teen idols as serious dramatists.”

“I always thought you were very good.”

“I was god awful. I had no idea what I was doing, I just—”

“I used to have the biggest crush on you when I was a kid. I watched every afternoon, just to see you.” Silva’s voice was soft, he laugh clearly self-deprecating. “I never thought I’d meet you in person. Thirteen year old me would be freaking out.”

Normally David would’ve cracked a grin at that sort of confession. He’d heard stuff like that all the time over the years. It had been a problem for him at times, he’d be in line to buy lunch and the cashier would recognize him and start fawning. Or taxi drivers would recall his face and ask for an autograph to give to their kids back home. Bank tellers would see his name and start to relate how they danced to that one song he recorded at their cousin’s wedding, neglecting that he only wanted to make a deposit and be on his way. It was a tough life, that of an ex-child star, and if he’d been with anyone else on any other day, he might’ve reacted as he usually did in those situations and simply brushed it all off. But there was something different about they way Silva said it, something that gave him pause and made him feel a little bit dizzy.

He looked back to Silva, their eyes just briefly meeting in the dim light, and he found a feeling of warmth settling inside his chest. He was used to praise, used to people recognizing him and falling over themselves to catch his attention, or to ask him for a favor, like he had any sort of influence in the world at all. David Villa was washed up. He was an absolute nobody whose face had once been plastered on the walls of teenagers across the Spanish speaking world. And now… for some reason he couldn’t quite name he felt like the only person whose opinion even mattered was sitting right across from him in a deck chair, bathed in an artificial orange glow, eyes dark and longing, a hand dangling off the armrest, close enough that David could take hold of it with minimal effort.

Silva raised his eyebrows in a sort of curious way, as if he was egging David on, “Sore subject?”

“No,” David said quickly, tearing his eyes away from Silva’s fingers. “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

Silva’s smile faltered a little and he made a sound of surprise.

David continued quickly, “I mean, I’m nothing like Diego at all. For lots of people, that’s a major let down.”

Silva blinked at him, his smile slowly returning, blossoming fully in time. “That’s a relief. Your character was a bit of an asshole you know.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” David smirked, leaning in a bit. “You don’t even know the half of it. I think most people who even remember the show have in their heads I’m some sort of depressive, womanizing loner alcoholic.” He glanced at the table between their lounge chairs, the empty glasses left there from earlier in their conversation. “I’m none of those things, thank you very much.”

“Then what would you say you are?” Silva asked, shifting back in his chair, turning on his side to face David head on. “You’re not a depressive, womanizing loner alcoholic, so how would you describe yourself?”

David paused, a little unsure and feeling exposed, but not uncomfortable. It wasn’t everyday he opened up to other people. Hell, he’d known Kun for three months before he felt like they really knew each other well enough to say they were friends. And here he’d known David Silva for a handful of hours and already he was ready to lay his soul at the man’s feet.

Call it infatuation, call it what you will, it was powerful, whatever emotion drove David forward. Pride fully swallowed, he cracked a small grin. “Seeking.”

Silva wrinkled his nose, obviously taken aback. “Seeking? Seeking what?”

David shrugged, not breaking eye contact. “Something. Anything. Maybe even you.”

He woke up a few hours later, still in the deck chair, the warm mid-morning sun beating down on him, passengers populating the other chairs nearby and frolicking in the pool. His back ached. His whole body ached, really, which was understandable considering the two men had fallen asleep, cramped and pressed together in the same chair. Silva’d slept in his arms, groggily complaining that he had to get up for a shift in the morning, lamenting that he’d have to go. And now that morning had broken, Silva was gone, but something told David he would be a bit easier to find again. 

“So?” Kun asked him later, after he’d gone back to his cabin to shower and make himself presentable again. “How’s the husband?”

David glared at him, then went back to scrutinizing his reflection in the mirror. He was still mad at Kun and wasn't prepared to forgive him for keeping Silva a secret from him. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew him? That was a dick move you know.”

Kun only smiled and made himself comfortable on the foot of David’s bed. “Doesn’t really matter now, does it?”

David huffed and reached for his hair gel.

“Is he everything you thought he’d be?”

David forced a frown and squeezed some of the gel into his palm. But try as he might, he wasn't _really_ unhappy. He was giddy, he felt a sort of confident glow about him, and all he could think about was Silva. He couldn't wait to see Silva again. 

Kun laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

And he _was_. Every subsequent night they spent together only cemented it. Sure, Silva was handsome. David’d known that right from the get. And he was charming, of course. And he had that sort of shyness about him that absolutely drove David wild. And he was intelligent, _way_ smarter than David, in every discernible way, yet he never talked down to him, never made him feel stupid at all. They could talk about anything, everything. Pop culture, films, television? Yes, absolutely. Literature and plays? Silva knew those subjects almost as well as David did, maybe even better. Football? Silva was a font of knowledge, he knew random tidbits and enough stats to make David’s head spin. They could talk about history and laugh over their favorite and least favorite teachers from childhood. Hand in hand, they’d wander the deck late at night, after David was done with his shows, and they’d look up at the night sky and pick out constellations and discuss the mythos behind them. And when they were done strolling, they’d wind up in David’s cabin, music turned up, hands on each other, bodies twisted and entwined.

Their first time had been a bit terrifying. Sex with someone you actually care about can be a nerve-racking thing when you’re going in blind, scared you’ll do something horrible and ruin the relationship forever. And David cared about Silva. He _really, really_ cared for him, and that made the whole affair more terrifying than losing his virginity. 

They’d been making out awhile. It was late, but not an impossible hour, and he’d set his music player onto shuffle, and they’d laughed about his terrible take in music, and then Silva’d wound up with his lips pressed to David’s throat, kissing and biting him and fully determined to leave a bruise while the sounds of 80’s synth-pop filled the background.

David hadn't quite realized how aroused he was until they were lying on his bed together, and he really didn't want to be a creep and start dry humping Silva or something. But he did like how Silva’s hands felt on his body, and the prospect of this new angle in their relationship was exciting. Sure, they’d only just met, and there were definite advantages to taking things slow and playing the long game when it came to romance, but this could work. This could be amazing, in fact.

Silva shifted against him and dropped his hand down between them, his palm dragging carelessly over David’s crotch. David shivered at the touch, even through his jeans he was helplessly hard.

David stared at him, something very clear and needy in his eyes, “David, can I kiss you?”

Silva sat up on his elbows, his mouth quirking into a hesitant smile. “You can do more than that.” He paused, biting on his lower lip. “If you want to.”

David’s heart started racing as Silva moved to sit in his lap and wrapped around his waist, their bodies pressed together, Silva’s lips capturing his easily. His mouth was so warm, he was making David shiver, making his whole body tense from the heat. Not that he didn't like the heat, but Silva was just so hot and he felt so good, body tight against his. His hands traveled down Silva’s back, settling firmly on his hips, urging him closer, mouth exploring his with a pointed growl.

David was unsure of their situation, yes, but with every second his confidence grew. It was like he was melting in Silva’s arms, body aching to touch his, mouth desperate to kiss him. And it all felt so nice and so amazing, he was pretty sure he could kiss David Silva forever and die a happy man.

Silva tugged at his shirt, his fingers seeming to burn through the fabric as they lingered on David’s chest. Their eyes met then, and he gave one of those shy little smiles again. “Is this okay? You’re awfully quiet.”

David could only exhale, try and catch his breath, pulling his shirt off the rest of the way, throwing it carelessly to the floor. “You’re so fucking hot.” Okay, maybe not the _most_ romantic line of all time, but it got the point across. And he had Silva laughing and comfortable, and that was what really mattered.

He was breathing heavy as Silva bit at him and touched him and needed him. David couldn't honestly remember the last time he was this turned on. It was disorienting and overwhelming and all he could think about was— 

“You want me?” Silva’s voice was breathy, but somehow just as commanding as he ever was, and he threaded his fingers through David’s hair, pulling his head back so they could kiss again.

 _Fuck yes_ , he did. He wanted Silva so bad. His hips were moving on their own, grinding against Silva even before he had his pants all the way off. It was the heat of the moment, he couldn't possibly blame David for getting a little carried away. And between desperate kisses, he was able to mumble, “So fucking bad, babe. So fucking bad.”

Silva grinned and shoved him to the bed, pulling David’s pants down a bit, leaving his cock exposed, leaving David vulnerable for the moment. before he moved to straddle him. “I’m going to ride you until you pass out.”

There was a flurry of movement between them as they both scuttled the rest of their clothes. David ended up flat on his back, Silva wriggling above him, slathering David’s cock with lube, taking his sweet time to tease him and ease David inside, taking even longer to settle into a slow and purposeful rhythm before he turned his attention back to David and looked to him with hooded eyes. “Is it good?”

David might have said something dirty right back to him if his mind hadn't gone completely blank. He was so tight, and so hot, and David just wanted to lie there and stare up at him as he wound his hips and fucked him into the mattress. Silva looked so fucking hot, the way his back arched, the way his lips stayed parted, the way his brows knitted together in concentration, the way he let out small sounds of pleasure as he sank down onto David’s cock. David could barely think coherently, he was overcome by the animalistic need to move inside him.

“Fuck yeah, David. So good.” Anything more useful than that was out of his comprehension now. If Silva was expecting conversation, he'd have to look elsewhere. David’s mind was blank from the pleasure. He’d have been unable to think his was out of a shoebox if he had to. Silva was so tight and perfect, and the things he did with his hips were absolutely obscene. David was content to let him take control, just so long as Silva let him have his unobstructed view of him on top. David felt like a god, staring up at him, watching him arch and grind and whine, watching his eyelashes flutter. 

He was fucking him now though, holding Silva’s hips steady, holding him still so he could push up inside of him, harder and faster and more desperate now. He wanted to hear Silva moaning and screaming, he wanted to know he was the one who made him feel this good. Grinning and grunting just a little, he tightened his hold on Silva’s hips. Silva licked his lips then leaned in to kiss him again, body going still as David thrust up into him, moaning against his mouth.

“Talk to me. Tell me you like it.” David growled into Silva ear as he fucked Silva harder.

It was Silva’s turn to mumble incoherently, to be reduced to speechlessness. All he could manage were needy gasps, wordless pleas not to stop, to keep fucking him like that. Silva’s nails dug into David’s shoulder blades, and it was a few seconds before he could catch his breath and finally say something that at least sort of resembled words. “Fuck me. Harder.”

He tried to get his brain back together, tried to say something appropriate in response, but all he could think to do was obey, to keep Silva pressed close to him and keep on fucking him, hard as Silva wanted it, forever, for all time, until they day they died. Because he’d been around, he was no withering violet. He’d been with men, he’d been with women, he’d been in love, he’d fucked on the first date, _whatever_. This wasn’t like that. Fucking David Silva wasn’t like any of that. Fucking David Silva was like finding the other half of his soul. It was like David could heaven before him, see the saints welcoming him at the gates, beckoning him in, promising him eternal life. It was like he had that promise before him, and _still_ choosing hell, if it meant being with Silva. He had no reason to feel such anguish, no need to feel so struck, and yet he was, truly and completely, and he was fine by it. He would choose to be under this man’s spell, every day for forever, if only they could fuck like this again. 

And then Silva started to tighten up, his muscles all tensing at once. David slowed his pace. He could only watch as Silva shifted back and away from him, taking control again, rolling his hips, grinding down on David’s erection until he finally came, eking out a soft cry as his come spurted against his own belly.

David only had a split second to be surprised by Silva’s orgasm before he felt his own on deck. There was no more thinking after that, just motion and need. A few quick thrusts up into Silva’s slick hole and he was done for. He finished with a mangled gasp, probably bruising Silva’s hips with his grip of death. It took a moment after he came before he finally released him, laughing breathlessly as their eyes met again.

“Fuck,” he said, dragging his hands through his hair. In the background, some distracting pop ballad droned on. Silva bit back a smile, and shifted to get up from the bed. David felt his heart sink as he watched him, suddenly feeling helpless all over again and for different reasons.

Silva seemed to catch on, for his part. “I need to shower,” he said, reaching for a tissue box to wipe the come from his stomach. “And then I need to sleep. I have an early shift tomorrow.”

David nodded sheepishly. He understood obligations. As nice as it would be to lock themselves in his cabin and just fuck and fuck and fuck until they were totally exhausted and ready to die, he got that there really was more to life than sex. There was more to life than love, too, even though in that moment he couldn’t think of anything more important or meaningful. If he could have given into the emotion forever, he would’ve, and gladly. Anything to be with Silva. Anything for him.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Silva said, tossing the tissue into the waste bin, heading for David’s ensuite.

He sank back into his pillows, the sound of the shower drifting in through the walls at just the right frequency to remind him that it was late, and he’d had a long day and he really was beyond exhausted. So he closed his eyes, and he didn’t open them, even when he heard the water stop, even when he heard Silva’s footsteps across his room, even when he heard Silva turn his music off. He did open when he felt Silva slip into bed beside him, though, just for half a second, long enough to see him and reposition himself so that Silva could fall asleep in his arms.

Once again, he woke up alone. It didn't strike him as odd, though. Silva had told him he had to work in the morning, and David had his own work to focus on. And besides that, this particular voyage was nearing it’s conclusion. There’d be a stop in Cozumel the next morning, then one more day at sea before they would be back in Miami. He was already giddy with the thoughts of the adventures he and Silva could have once they were back on dry land with a bit of time off between voyages. He couldn’t wait to bring it up with Silva later, after that night’s performance.

And the performance? Well, it went just swimmingly. It had been, perhaps, the best show he’d ever put on. Kun likewise was brilliant, his smile more dazzling than usual, his eyes positively twinkling under the warm lights of the stage. The audience were enthralled, absolutely delighted by the show, and David had a sort of spring in his step as he exited the backstage door afterward, expecting to see Silva.

But Silva wasn’t there. There was no one waiting for him in the hall at all. David frowned and checked his phone, but there were no texts waiting for him, nothing at all to indicate that Silva might be late.

Maybe he had to work late at the concierge station. That wouldn’t be out of the ordinary, David thought, as he casually made his way to the main desk. But as he drew closer, it was clear that Silva wasn’t there. And more distressing than that, the two crew members who _were_ at the station seemed rather more on edge than one might expect them to be.

“How may we help you sir?” 

David approached with ease. “Yes, hi,” he began. “I’m looking for David Silva.”

One of the pair’s eyes went wide and he quickly turned to his co-worker. “Erm…”

“Is that the name of a passenger, or—?” The second interrupted.

David raised an eyebrow, confused. “He works here. At the concierge desk.”

The first employee looked nervous, unsure what to do.

The second took a deep breath and seemed to want to look in control. “You’re a friend of his?”

“Yes,” David answered quickly, leaning into the desk, dropping his voice. “Look, what’s going on? Has something happened to him? Is he hurt or something?”

“He hasn’t been injured,” the first said quietly. The second turned to glare at him to shut him up.

“Then what’s wrong? Why’re you both acting like he’s in trouble?” David’s voice spiked in volume, unintentionally causing the pair to startle. David took a deep breath and pressed his hands to his temples, fighting back the sudden panicky feeling in his guts. “What’s happened to David?”

“He’s been arrested,” the second concierge said at last, voice very soft and very calm. “He’s suspected of jewelry theft. A passenger reported that there was a burglary from their room last night, and this morning they identified David as the one responsible. So he’s been taken into custody by the security office until we get back to Florida. After that… well, I guess it’s probably up to the police to handle it.”

 _Kill Bill_ sirens started sounding in David’s head and his eyes were the size of dinner plates as he slumped against the desk in utter shock. Silva accused of being a _thief_? But he couldn’t be a thief! He certainly couldn’t have been a thief last night, not when they’d spent the entire evening together.

“It wasn’t him,” David said under his breath, barely loud enough for the two at the desk to hear him. “It couldn’t have been him.”

“Hm?” The first concierge looked concerned.

“David didn’t steal anything last night,” David repeated himself, louder that time. He turned back to face the two men, his hands balled up into fists. “I need to speak to security. Or your manager. Whoever is in charge of this crap, I need to talk to them. Call them up here, now!”

He wasn’t sure what he was going to say to them, if he should make such a huge scene about it, but when it came down to it, making a scene was totally worth it. The man he loved (or was actively falling in love with, at least) was in serious shit, and David was his alibi. He wasn’t going to risk losing Silva just because it might be embarrassing or inconvenient or might make him look bad. Yeah, he was happy with his performances lately, and he liked the life he’d made for himself at sea, but Silva represented more than that. On stage, he felt like he was tapping into emotion. With Silva, he really _felt_ them.

As expected, the security staff were hesitant in believing David’s adamant claims that Silva could not have been burglarizing anybody the night before. He tried to delicately explain that Silva had been in his company all night before literally spelling it out that they’d been having sex in his cabin and hadn’t left each other’s sides, but what could he do? It wasn’t _his_ fault (or Silva’s) that the staff were so obtuse.

“Look,” David said in summary, tapping his fingers on the table between him and the security officer assigned to take his statement, “I’m not the kind of person who broadcasts this stuff. I don't flaunt who I’m with or what we do, you understand? I wouldn’t just come in here telling you this if it weren’t God’s honest truth, if it wasn’t important. And you’re arresting Silva for this crime and I’m telling you right now that he can’t have committed it.”

“Because he was in bed with you,” the security guard said, leveling him with an empty stare.

“Because he was in bed with me,” David repeated. 

“Uh-huh. Well, the eye witness picked his photo out as the one responsible—”

“I know the old lady who was burglarized says she saw him or something, but old ladies have bad eyesight, and…” David let out a haggard sigh as he trailed off. Then, a thought occurred. “Don’t you have surveillance cameras or something? If Silva robbed that passenger’s room, wouldn’t you have it on camera.”

The security guard raised an eyebrow and muttered something. “I’m not going to speak to you about our evidence, Mister Villa. But I will do something. When the chief investigator clocks in in a couple hours, I’ll share your statement and concerns with her. If we can corroborate your version of events, this could turn things around for your _friend_.”

David narrowed his eyes a moment, then nodded, backing down. There wasn’t much more he could do for Silva, other than wait it out and hope they’d take him at his word.

The ship docked in Cozumel at 8am, and there was a knock at David’s door shortly after. Groggy from a restless morning of sleep, he opened it wide and found himself face to face with Silva, who looked more tired and more uneasy than David did himself.

Without a word, Silva seemed to fall into his arms. Without a word, David held him. Eventually they moved inside the room, the door closing heavily behind them, and soon they were seated on the bed beside each other, both seeming unsure as to what they should say.

“They’ve let you go,” David said at last, taking one of Silva’s hands in both of his, watching as Silva gnawed on the cuticle of his thumb, a sort of nervous display he’d never observed from him before. “That’s good. That’s really good news.”

“Yes,” Silva mumbled. He sat slumped, his voice distant and cold. “All they had against me was what the passenger said.”

“I know.” David nodded. “It’s just so fucked up that they could arrest you, call you a thief, say they’re gonna lock you away, over what some old lady said.”

“Yes, well, the world is kind of fucked up sometimes.”

David blinked a few times, tilting his head so he could better watch Silva. Silva’s expression was so hard to read, David wasn't sure if he looked more like he might laugh or cry. He didn't want Silva to do either. He wanted him to just be _okay_.

Silva looked at him then, his hand dropping away from his mouth. “You know, they wouldn’t even apologize to me? They put me through hell. They lock me up, call me a thief, they go through my cabin, dig through my things, intrude into my relationship and my sex life. And they wouldn’t even say ‘sorry for the hassle, David, we messed up on this one’. They couldn’t even be bothered to do that.”

“I’m sorry.” It was all David could think to say. It probably sounded empty and meaningless in the background of Silva’s thoughts, but David meant it at least. No one should have to go through all that. It was fucked up, and he felt semi-responsible for it. After all, he’d been the alibi, he’d been the one to bring up their relationship to security. It was one thing to talk about it with each other and quite another to talk about it with other people, even if it was for a good reason, and for that, David felt pretty lousy.

“So I quit.”

David couldn’t mask his confusion then, he was shaken to the core. “What?”

“After everything that happened yesterday, I’m done. I’ve already been back to my room and packed all my things.” They locked eyes then, and David’s let himself get lost in the warmth of Silva’s gaze, even as a sense of dread came over him. If Silva was leaving the ship, that meant he was leaving _him_ too, didn’t it?

“David…” His voice cracked and he held tighter to Silva’s hand.

“Come with me,” Silva whispered, scooting closer to him, closing the gap between them. “Pack your bags and let’s get off the boat and let’s just go.”

David sat there frozen, his mind a total mess. What would it mean to leave? He’d be walking out on the first long term gig he’d had in years, leaving behind friends and cast mates he’d come to love and trust over his residency, leaving a lifestyle he really enjoyed and an atmosphere that had rewarded him professionally, more so than any other job he’d had since he was a teenager. But if he stayed and he let David Silva walk away…

It’d been days, barely more than a week, and he was already considering giving up his job for this guy. They’d fucked once and already he was ready to swear off everyone else in the world. He’d fallen in love at first sight, and he was ready to move heaven and earth and give up a starring role in _Pippin_ , all for the love of David Silva, because cliché as it was, something told him he’d really found _the one_. 

“Fuck,” he said softly, watching the hopeful look in Silva’s eyes, knowing that his own internal battle had been settled right away. “Okay,” he continued, closing his eyes. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

He didn’t see Silva’s entire face light up. He didn’t have to see it to know he was smiling. He instead felt Silva’s lips pressed to his and heard the contented little purr of satisfaction as they fell back onto the mattress together.

Two hours later, they disembarked in Cozumel with their suitcases and worldly possessions in tow, and soon they disappeared among the tourists in the busy streets. David left a note for Kun to find, praising him as the best Pippin the world had ever seen, along with a promise to put in a good word with his manager back in Spain, in case a TV gig ever came his way. Beyond that, neither of them spoke a word until they were swallowed up by the crowds.

They checked into a hotel room that afternoon, but they didn't bother unpacking. They’d decided that while Cozumel was surely quite charming, it would be best to head back to Spain, at least initially and David set about buying their plane tickets while Silva took a shower.

As he finished purchasing their tickets, he switched on the TV and switched through the channels, stopping dead as the familiar strains of a saxophone cut through him like a hot knife through butter. It was the theme music to _San Aquí No_ , one of the earlier seasons, if he remembered correctly. David froze, unable to look away from the screen, enraptured by his own face at age fifteen, a skinny little baby-faced punk, pouting and sighing over an equally innocent schoolgirl, lamenting their poor, perfect lives in the posh private institute. 

David was so engrossed, he didn’t even hear the water turn off or notice Silva returning until he sat down beside him, arms draping possessively around his shoulders.

“Oh my god, you were such a looker,” Silva said with a chuckle. He was still damp, beads of water dripping from the locks of his hair, falling onto David’s t-shirt. 

David tilted his head to look at him, rolling his eyes a little. Silva had to be kidding. Teenaged David looked an absolute wreck. His cheeks were too round, and his voice hadn’t even changed yet, and his clothes were ill-fitting and had aged very poorly. David couldn’t help but be a bit incredulous.

Silva laughed brightly, leaning back onto the bed, watching him through his lashes. “You still are.”

David’s cheeks went a little hot then, and it really did start to sink in. When he got up in the morning and looked at himself in the mirror, who did he see? Just some washed up teen idol, right? Some punk whose best days were in the past, someone forgotten, unlovable, unwanted. Someone who peaked at seventeen and was all downhill after that.

Except he wasn’t that, not in Silva’s eyes, and not in his own anymore. He’d found a real sense of himself on stage, and he’d found real emotional capacity with Silva, and the way Silva looked at him had him feeling like he could fly. He was fulfilled and he felt alive. In love, and alive.

Grinning, he cast the remote control aside and climbed on top of Silva, hovering above him a moment before leaning down to kiss him. Silva let out a small, gentle mewl and pulled him in close, and David let himself fall into Silva’s embrace.

It wasn’t going to be easy for them, but then, David was more used to the life of a struggling artist than he was as a globe-trotting superstar. Silva wanted to write, and David could always get a gig as a barista, or do the soap opera convention circuit, anyway. It would be tough. It might even really suck for awhile. David was actually really sort of dreading the prospect of phoning his parents and explaining what had happened— not because he was ashamed of his decision, but because he knew they be mad that he hadn’t told them right away that he’d met someone and was serious about it. That was perhaps the most daunting part of it all. But on the other end of the spectrum, they’d be in it together, and they’d get by, and somehow it would all be okay.


End file.
